(Usual Apols for length)
Thanks to Steve and his helpers.
Quite simply a special event. The route was one of those that I could easily imagine riding again just for fun, with little or no modification. The early morning chug to Lairg, with everyone appearing a mix of eager and worried to various degrees. Passed many familiar faces including my audax hero McNasty. If I get to his age with his fitness (but hopefully better teeth!) I'll be a happy auld duffer.
The first control gave a hint of the TLC we were in for. Quick service and decent nosh, I was in and out pretty swiftly. This set me up nicely for the TT into a teasing headwind up to Arsefuck or somewhere. Beautiful scenery, first along a lochside and then towards the small mountains up north.
The next control was another notch up. Pasta and soup delivered to a sofa, whilst I say stripped to the waste. No massages though; not quite the Carlsberg.
Then the coastal stretch via Durness to Tongue. Rolling but nothing like as mean as claimed. Really great views here; inland were broad moorland and isolated mountains. To the north inlets and golden sand beaches. Graeme and Ecl welcomed us in tongue, with some spag Bol that hit the spot. And cheese. Lovely cheese.
More coast. The climb to tongue gave a hint as to why the next control was a mere 34km away. This was a real roller coaster of a road, with a lot of up and down. The views eased the pain and I was making good time so managed it in daylight. Phil Dyson and Denise Carroll welcomed us at Strachy. Fish pie and, oh my, clootie dumpling. Yum yum. The midgies were coming out to play at this control, cue itch itch itch. I didn't hang around outside.
I battered my way towards the next control at C*ntfisty of some such. I just managed to reach here without lights. Just. Mainly because the light lingered in the sky for longer. With a tailwind this was a quick stage, powering down a quiet A road. The control was manned by the Crawfords. Sorry to the other controls, but this was the boss. Trifle to start. By the ladle. Then omelette cooked to order. The midgie welcoming committee in the hall was, eek, interesting. I don't think I've ran from a control and jumped on the bike to ride off.
I took the alternative route via Helmsdale, chasing down a couple of recumbenders and for them to then gracefully power past me on the A9. Turns out this diversion wasn't needed as Glen Loth was patched up. Oh well.
I went through my customary 2am droop on the drag to Lairg. 100bpm with the small ring, but felt like a much higher exertion. I suspect this might have been due to overheating in my rain jacket (which I had on for warmth). I weighed up the options of a straight through sub 20 hour ride or to kip in Lairg. I went for the latter, as there are no medals for getting back soon. And I wasn't looking forward to that long hill in the cold of dawn. So I had a bowl of chilli and crashed on an inflatable mat for about 4 hours sleep. Glad I did it as I was chipper the next day.
The last stage was a retrace of the first. So all those downhills became uphills and vv. Dingwall came into sight before too long, and the finish control dishes out leavie overs (more clootie and trifle) and bacon rolls. I watched various people come in and go, and eventually wandered out myself.
All in all, a truly magnificent weekend. Again many thanks to all involved, both the organiser and crews, and also the riders who each added something to the mythos of the event.
